Where Ever You Go
by scriptumsanguine
Summary: Aftr a year of a broken heart Romano finally bgins 2 step out of his shell & start anew. But, whn all bgins 2 go good he gets shot in2 a world full of crime, hate, & death. Now he must dig up old habits in order 2 survive & fine his way back home. Scientist have yet 2 discover the way 2 parallel universes, & may b tht's a good thing. Germano & othrs (Yaoi & Yuri)
1. Awaken

_"Now those memories come back to haunt me. They haunt me like a curse."  
~Bruce Springsteen_

~1~

**_'_**An eerie silence engulfed the dilapidated firm, contrast to a few minutes when the explosion outside rattled the entire foundation. Fallen antiques littered the concluding canvas as soot trickled from the caved ceiling. An echo of stomping boots bounces off the walls, stirring the dust as a solider franticly sprints down the metal staircase. Rounding the corner, he scales down his last fleet of stairs. The once white t-shirt now clings to the slender body muddy and wet, floppy edges from torn fibers. Daring a fearful glance back, Romano Vergas pushes his pace even when only empty stairs follow behind him. He propels himself over the last steps just as a blinding light submerges him preceding the blaring rumble and clash of another bomb, from a passing helicopter, hits the earth. The little Italian roughly lands on the floor twisting his ankle in the process

Pushing himself up by the butt of his rifle, he hobbles for cover, wordlessly cursing every bastard he worked with; especially his lover. But where the hell is his guardian Tony now? Where is he stationed in this invasion? A humming above signals the advance of yet another helicopter before the ground shook violently. Romano hopped as fast loaded semiautomatic crutch would push him, while simultaneously dodging falling objects high and low. Several times he came close to missing safety, falling into the path of more debris descending high above him before rolling away in the meek of time. Romano reaches a rusty door, out of breath and in agonizing pain; he glances back from wince he came then the grinding sound of bending steel catches his attention. There's a dip and a large growing crack in the concrete right above the man, dangerously close to collapsing. He grasps the door knob and pushes. The damn door is stuck, and refuses to budge. A horrible twist in his gut forces him to frantically jiggle the knob and ram his shoulder hard into the frame. The peek of the dipped ceiling gives in letting loose the large amount of broken steel two by fours, bolder like concrete blocks and other valuables from higher floors on the struggling figure. In one last effort to escape, Romano slams his whole body into the door just as the debris reaches the brush of his dropping curl. The door let's loose allowing Romano to tumble into enclosure seconds away from death.

Small rocks bounce across his back as Romano lays there unaware that he is still alive. A woman's cries and a familiar voice, full of comfort, play off in the distance. Romano struggles to sit up, since his gun went missing, and listens to the voices. Hope swells his heart like a sponge; forgetting the pain shooting up his leg in electric currents Romano stumbles across the metal plate floor coming short of the cold rail overlooking the workers stations of heavy machinery. Romano pulls himself back up using the railing as leverage as he stands. He's up on a balcony and down below he can defiantly hear Antonio's voice but can't make out what he's saying to the distressed female. But when Romano went to call out the bastard's name nothing came out. His hand graced his throat concerned for the sudden loss of speech. The surrounding began to darken until it was just the three of them in the nothing. It also seemed as if Antonio and the unknown woman were floating towards Romano, and transfixed on the scene he couldn't even look away. In different circumstances Romano would agree that she was beautiful, but not when she's causing every fiber of his being to shatter that instance. His fist clench as he watched Antonio place his lips on the girls forehead then moves lower to kiss away her tears. He felt a tear roll down his face as he saw Antonio's lips move to form the words the younger man instantly recognized. Antonio had repeatedly told her 'Te Amo (3)'. The stunning chica tilts her head back; her dark lushes' locks swoop past her shoulders falling perfectly to the middle of her back like rolling lava. Carmel skin outlines delicate features of her face, accenting the full red lips with black lashes and brows bring out her big ocean eyes. The innocence radiating off this small women could make even a wicked man eager to protect her. The corners of her lips curl up as she brings those whore lips to brush against Antonio's cheating ones. Romano's throat goes dry and painfully clenches tightly close, threatening to suffocate him while Antonio passionately deepens her sinning kiss. An explosion covers up the scream that has ripped through Romano's throat encasing him again in a blinding white light.**_'_**

Romano jerks up in bed, his terror scream still echoes though out his apartment complex. Hyperventilating, the personification of southern Italy curls up, holding his bare knees close to his naked chest and slowly returns to reality. Once his panic attack subsides he glances around the small dainty room. He groans at the alarm clock that shines 2:27 am, stepping on the flush rug lay out on the cold wooden flooring and walks to the bathroom pulling himself together. Without thinking he flicks the light switch on. Hissing curses and damning it to hell as the rays reflect off the bright tiles, gold and many shades of green accented by white in an intricate pattern, blinding him. He stumbles around the lavatory, searching for the sink with his swinging hands, when his eyes finally adjust to sudden change of light.

The white to black spots leave his vision and Romano is at the engraved, triple mirror. He's momentarily shocked at the reflection staring wide eyed back at him. His hazel eyes are glazed over and surrounded by dark purple bags. The color of his skin has lightened from a healthy, golden spray to a sickly yellow caked over in sweat and uneven stubbles of an overdue two-o-clock shadow. His breath still laced with the last Godfather (1) that night, yet the drinks did little but a temporary help for the grieving Italian. Romano still remembers the message he received that unfaithful day he was abandoned. The start of sleepless nights and painful days filled with bittersweet memories and drinks. He leans against the marble sink, a relatively clean and large surface with only a half empty tube of paste laying next to the simple green toothbrush and a bottle of aspirin of the other side. It's nothing too interesting to look at, unless guests were to notice the handwritten note on the aspirins label: "Nur wenn notwendig ~ Deutschland (4)". The little blue pills contained weren't acetylsalicylic acid but thalidomide. "I think three weeks is urgent enough." The rattling of the pills is Romano's only answer to his unaddressed comment as he swipes the bottle and sits his naked form of the rim of the cold spin wash (2). He drowns the two pills without water and sets the rest aside waiting for the drug to take effect.

As time goes by, Romano finds himself dwelling on the images of his nightmare, and of previous ones that had led him in this same predicament when alcohol wasn't enough to drive them away. It seems that agony wont leave him be, for only a handful of nights ago the invasion, of Romano's nighttime vision, was the deck of Spain's glorious Armada. The dark haired chica was a young chico with a head of gold and chocolate most dreams that usually fade within a few seconds of consciences, these nightmares are a reoccurring theme that never seems to leave. In the year after Spain fled from their home and into the arms of another Romano hasn't many peaceful nights of rest without the help of toxins, may it be pills or alcohol, or even just from plan exhaustion and shuts down. No other has really ever seen Romano outside of a few conference or church, and he refuses to see anybody at home especially his idiot twin. The last thing he needs is to be reminded of Feliciano perfect life, with his perfect friends, perfect skills and "oh-so wonderful" German boyfriend. Even thought the bastard had secretly placed the bottle of drugs in Romanos' briefcase, he knows it's just like all the others, it was an act of sympathy for his pathetic state, and if nothing more a boost to Germany's self-esteem then wanting to truly help.

Romano's head starts to sway and before he crashes to the ground in a drug induced sleep set cores to his bed. Blaspheming the damn pills for being so quick and unexpectedly strong, he stumbles and bumps into the few items in the bedroom. One foot caught in front of the other sending Romano spiraling down, only to catch himself on the post of the master bed. He risks no chance of fainting and flings himself on the safety of the mattress and scurries under the covers. Smothered in a blood velvet blanket, the forsaken one surveyed the room in order to bore himself as he drifted off into a dreamless state. A beautiful vase crafted by Grandpa Rome, a small series of books on the dresser (the rest in still in an unpacked box), two large and beautiful gray-gold irises surrounded by the blue of the eye, reflected in the mirror from outside, his wooden violin leaning up against the wall collecting dust, the bow tilted on the violins body, the… 'Aspetta (5)…?' One of those items doesn't fit, but his fuzzy mind can't solve which one; being unable to recall everything he looked at. Flipping over, Romano gazes out the French doors to his balcony, the leaves and a branch in the tree rustling in the wind. The last of the waning moon is the final thing he sees for tonight as he drifts off into slumber.

**Foot Note:  
1- An Italian cocktail made with scotch and amaretto  
2- Spin Wash Bathtub - 2008/spin-wash-bathtub/  
3- Spanish: I love you (who'd known..?)  
4- German: Only if necessary  
5- Italian: What**


	2. Dear Agony

**Authors Note: This is updated faster than I expected. But I just got excited with this chapter, and with the fact that it is summer I guess I 'm allowed this privilege. So don't expect this fast of updates when school starts (sadly sooner then I want :( ); I'll try at least an update once two to three weeks. **

_"'No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."'  
~ C. S. Lewis_

~1~

Feliciano slips out the spare bedroom and crept down the hall to the master bedroom, but after the other night he might as well be walking straight into the heart of his twin's mafia. The fight was still fresh in his mind, and evidence still on his moist cheeks. If it wasn't for the fact that his suitcase for the meeting was packed in that room this journey wouldn't be necessary. The hallway is smothered in a blanket of black, almost making it unbearable for the weak Italian, crashing his hip into several pieces of furniture here and there, to navigate through. Alas, the darkness is inviting for him, meaning he might be able to sneak in and out without confrontation. 'Ludwig must still be in bed.' The absent of light underneath the door confirms the Northern nation's suspicion. He lets out the breath he was sub-consciously holding, grasping the knob and gently thrusting the door open. He takes extra precaution not to make a sound, but naturally that just makes it all the louder. Not that it mattered anyway, because sitting off on the other side of the long room near the library reading a small book by the light of a small desk lamp was the very man Feli had been trying to avoid. Ludwig straighten his posture upon Italy's entrance still in his usual nightwear, blond hair lying flat on his forehead and a pen in hand editing his monthly address for the eight time. Feliciano shouldn't be too shocked since it's in the man's nature to always be on top of everything. A sharp pain stabs his chest at the last thought, how literal those words mean.

Ludwig watches as Feliciano, hidden mostly by the shadows, ducks away and searches for his suitcase deep inside the walk in closet. Half the room flooded with the light from the closet waking up Germany's dogs in their beds. The three animals perk up and stroll on either to Ludwig or Feliciano's side. Alas their owner could do nothing but sit straight up and stare in shock and a hint of fear. His mind was in a heated battle of conflict; one side demanding him to go to his blüte (1) and another opposing side reminded him of the heated disagreement only six hours ago. Bringing up the rear was the voice that told him to wait until Feliciano was ready to have a civilized conversation. He agreed with the last voice, the argument was still fresh in both of their minds. Germany could never understand Feli's jealousy, and holding long grudges to false accusations he made in a split second. Ceasar rest his head on Ludwig's lab to comfort his alpha. A hand sneaks through the German Sheppard's fur. Sensing his master's anger, the trusting canine nuzzles closer attempting to lighten the hot electric currents in the air, most directed towards the smaller nation.

The other two dogs rest at the feet of the victim of slight supernatural pressure that surrounds him. This force has put its toll on the nation. His fears haunting his path to self-redemption and pulling him back into the state of deterioration. Never before had these ghosts in his mind been this strong that even the simplest of calming pleasures add to their weight. Veneziano swipes the sudor from his slightly unkempt skin, pushing the somewhat greasy bangs aside coming short to his trademark curl which physically droops low to the side of his check. Honey orbs swimming with disconsolate find the maroon carry-on resting along with matching luggage. Collecting all the pieces Feliciano feels strong arms wrap around his midsection, holding him securely reminding him of the safety they've always held. Sweet lips press into his temple then Ludwig burry's his face into Feliciano's lean shoulder. His shaggy bangs drape loosely over Italy's thin collar bone. Veneziano eye's boggled wide at the sudden show of affection the stock German was giving before filling up with tears as his ears pick up sweet words laced in the alluring accent his lover beheld. "Ich liebe alles an dir, nach innen und nach außen. Sie erfüllen mich völlig, bitte ich brauche dich so sehr. Es tut mir leid, wenn ich verletzt immer Sie (2)." A lost grin lightens Feliciano's features; darken by an abundance of despair, while forgotten emotions bloom within his chest. Tilting his head back, the misguided man looks back at the mirage his tortured mind fashioned to apprehend the void behind him. A tear escapes the crushed man lost between the plane of reality and imaginary, falling onto the black nose of the miniature schnauzer at his feet, prior to his hasty leave fearing what else will happen. He flees past a tall figure, fearing another illusion he doesn't stop his run till embraced by the chilled air of morning. Throwing his things into the back of his teal green corvette, Vaneziano starts the engine just. The sun begins to raise lighting up the sky as he pulls out. The front door to the house is thrown open and out burst his half naked boyfriend followed by three bouncing pooches. He watches in the review mirror as Ludwig stands dumb fold in the middle of the driveway three dogs running the yard.

~2~

The early morning sun illuminates the city of Rome Italy, the start of a new day entices the people outside to bask in the warmth before setting off to their daily billets. Men, women and children flock in the streets, starting off the day at the market or a restaurant for a morning meal, or some out or a stroll before the job; children out for one last play then ushered off to school by their busty mothers. A few cars drift here and there, all with unique styles and elegance, off to further destinations. One particular gray vehicle with tinted windows pulls into the lot of a classical seven story apartment.

A tall, well built Italian man, with an air of superior and duty, a rare sight to behold here, steps our of the drivers' seat. He strolls around the vehicle to open the door for his backseat passenger. Hidden in casual clothes the political figure ventures out into the world, and assisted by his guard journeys forward to the first task in reviving the dying country. The depression that had slowly crept its way though several areas, north and south, has caused enough damage to the economy to signal an alert. Pulling out his personal key card, he swiftly enters the building without commotion and into the elevator with ease.

One room, four floors up, is closed off from the rest of the world. Drapes drawn closed with no light radiating from within seeming that the inhabitants are still asleep. Dwelling inside, curled up on the couch, Romano lays looking still sickly colored and wrapped up in a long black rob. He absentmindedly flips through channels on the T.V, one of the few things unpacked from the sudden move from Ronda Spain. The rest of his things are still in boxes surrounding him. Even after the year, he hasn't had the strength of heart to unpack them. A light knock draws Romano's attention to the door. Wondering who the hell is here, he goes to answer it on the second knock.

He was just about to tap the outside door for the third time as it opens, although now he wished it never did. Never in his long life time had he have ever seen such a wreck of a man as the one standing in front of him. Romano raises a questioning eyebrow at Giorgio Napolitano, president of Italy, his boss. "B-buongiorno Romano, posso entrare? Abbiamo una questione importante da discutere. (3)" Napolitano quietly informed. The younger looking Italian sighed but allows them access to his cluttered home, slightly embarrassed since this condition rarely happens.

The two colleagues take a seat on the couch while the body guard takes his station off to the side watching like a hawk for any dangers. Napolitano seems unfazed by the congestion or hides it well by getting down to business as if this happened often. Romano masked his features in the best poker face he could muster in this situation, when his boss started explaining. "You must be wondering why I'm here, so I'll just cut to the chase and tell you to get packing for the world meeting in England."

"What the fuck!?" Losing all composure, Romano stared wide eyed at Napolitano in disbelief and anger. Don't they usually send his brother to these things anyways; he's more 'enjoyable'. The Italians question was answered before he even had a chance to ask.

"Romano, watch your language. I know we usually have Italy go but since he's in Germany, I can't be certain he's going. The country needs to be reassured that someone will be there to represent us in our time of need. The depression is sinking in the north faster and…" Romano cuts him off.

"Hold on, the north is falling into a depression?"

"Sì, the economy has been steadily declining, and at an alarming rate. That's why I need to be sure that part of Italy is there in the world meeting." Giorgio observes his personifications' eye's, noting the hint off fear, pain and concern, a question he knew he couldn't avoid. Some leaders' possesses this type of awareness of their country's unspoken feelings. This creates a weaving bond between the two. History is a bloody path the countries have lived and trust, for them, can only go so far. A leader must be aware of this at all time, and in doing so build trust and pride in their personifications. Especially in hard times like this. Giorgio looks into Romano gloomy eyes with a sincere look in his own, "Sì, Antonio will be there as well."

Romano knew the answer long before his boss said anything, but it still stung when spoken out loud. He gazes into those dark brown eyes of his elderly boss.

"Per favore, Romano; if not for yourself or the country, then go for an old man with no more options." Giorgio asked, not as a commanding boss, but as a friend. The way the man was sitting here almost begging Romano to go to this assembly twisted his heart. But the fear of meeting his haunting demon in the form of a cheerful, talented piece of hidden madness wrapped in a sensual tan cover; a lost pleasure he wants to bury deep in the past, pulls him deep inside himself.

Shadows flicker across the drapes from passing birds, creating dancing illusions in Romano's vision. He suddenly realizes how much he misses the sun and carefree lives of the citizens he once encountered. Unsure of that to think, or do, he weighs out his options. The hard decision now rest on him: save his country, or himself.

~3~

"Oh buggers…." Arthur moaned as all of his papers fall from the stretched table and scattered across the carpet. He sinks down to one knee and quickly gathers all the loose sheets attempting to organize, then giving up and collects the mass. His untamed mane glows in the sunshine flowing through the windowpane. The dress shirt clung delicately to his form. Tapping the bunch on the side of the table, so they all went the same way, a folded note falls from his pocket to the ground. Unaware of the fallen piece England begins the tedious task of ordering the papers then placing two by each plastic flag replica of each country's. He stops when he reaches the too familiar stars and stripes. His mind tells him to just set his papers down and move on. But as if under some twisted spell Arthur can't pulls his emerald eyes off the flag and all the memories it held for the nation. He thinks back to the first time a laid eye's on America, Alfred, when he was a newly discovered country. He reminisces the times as he grows up from a rowdy cowboy, to a strong solider fighting for independence and then a splendid mate. 'From son, to brother; friend, to lover all in the course of a short 200 years.' Such a huge impact in that small amount of time left the biggest scare on the country's personal history. The soft cushion presses against his back throwing reality back in the British brain. He subconsciously walked back to his chair. Face palming his own daydream, he's shocked to find that his face a moistened. He removes his hand to find lingering tears. Arthur silently maledicts himself and the man responsible, upsetting himself more but to hurt to give a damn about his surrounding and pride. He sits there in the empty room letting everything he's carried this long out.

**Footnote:**

**1-German: flower**

**2- German: I love everything about you, inward and outward. You satisfy me completely; please I need you. I am sorry if I ever hurt you.**

**3-Italian: G-good morning Romano, may I come in? We have important matters to discuses **

**Authors Note:**

**Parts of this kind of broke my heart while writing them, especially Feliciano's. So, I set out for my goal for this chapter and achieved it, now it's your turn to critic it.  
**


	3. What Lies Beneath

**Aurthur Note: Again this is posted sooner then I thought. But I guess that's okay, post another chapter before school starts this Thursday... -twitch twitch-. I know not many if any questions are answered, but that's how I want the first half to be which is going to be ending pretty soon so just bare with me.  
**

"_A perfection of means, and confusion of aims, seems to be our main problem."  
~ __Albert Einstein_

~1~

"But that's like, totally unfair…" Feliks Lukasiewicz moaned looking over his friend, Toris's, hotel information. They weren't roomed together; instead Toris was rooming with Alfred. Well, at least it wasn't Natalia. Feliks mentally shutters at the thought of Toris's object of desire; the crazy, knife wielding Belarusian. Sure, she was beautiful… 'But beauty only goes so far,' he dryly thought to himself. The pilot raspy voice boomed out of the round intercom informing the few passengers that they will be landing in Rome Italy shortly. Being a national government plane, besides the country personifications and their leaders, only a selective few bodyguards could board. The few tan, leather seats were almost all occupied in this coach, and the back coach wasn't any different if not less available, holding either a body or a pile of blue, tan and brown dress coats and draped over the arms large black, and tan trench coats. Grasping the belt, Feliks fastens the completely bland straps to his exterior. He wishes that Toris would open his eyes and see the truth blaring right in front of him about her. But for now he needs to be able to convince the third party to switch rooms; although he doubts the dumb "hero" blond will want to be in the same proximity as Poland's roommate. Feliks was spending the next two weeks sharing rooms with Fancis. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or the most horrible thing he's ever heard, although he was leaning more towards the later. "I like, hope that Francis doesn't try anything funny, cuz I'll like totally rip him a new one." Poland dryly threatened. Toris doesn't take the blackmail too seriously. Not that he doubt that Fleiks could do it, but because of his shy demander. Glancing into his eyes, Toris give a slight smile though not sure if it looks as genuine as he hoped. The burnet receives a half smile back from the other party in their seating block. A slight jerk alerts them of their landing. He was still very surprised that Ivan let him go to the meeting with his old friend. All though helping him and Yao escape Natalia's clutches may have aided him in this privilege. Ah, the beautiful Natalia. Labai gražus, stiprious valios (1)…ugnìnga (2). One thin finger dills into Toris arm as he escapes to the day dream realm. He ignores it at first until it starts to twist and push harder, most likely leaving a bruise. Waking from his dream, Toris is faced with Feliks glare; which, in a way, was adorable just as it was fearful.

"You were like completely ignoring me." The blond accuses knowing very well what that off look the burnet had. He hoped that his earlier comment would have Toris worried for him instead of just brushed off.

"Atsiprašau (3), just thinking of something…" Toris trails off before being asked to clarify. Smiling out of embarrassment, he rephrases, "I've wondering who's all going to be there at the meeting."

Feliks rolls his eyes, "More like thinking of that Belarusian kurwa (3)…" Lithuania glanced out the window; if he heard the whispered comment, he didn't say anything about it.

He must say, Italy is very impressive, even the simple airport seems to carry an artistic feel. The buildings scaled each other, enclosed bridges cross one another creating an elegant yet functional look. The simple colors of soft yellows almost gold, white and light violets amplify not only the design but bring a calming feeling to exhausted travelers. Lost in the beauty, Toris almost failed to notice the guards passing by. He looked up just in time to see the elderly president complimented by the prime minister climb into the aircraft; both escorted by two body guards. The powerful men wear wrapped in expensive Italian suits. As they passed the two friends, Toris notices the trademark curl amongst the mass. He mental smiles at the thought of the bubbly Feliciano and concludes that the flight needs a little boost from the dead atmosphere. He waits for a little country; losing sight of him for a minute as everyone else passes by but sees that Feliciano is not amongst them anymore. The man leans down the alley. After a few seconds he finds who he's searching for leaning against the window several seats in front of them. Blond hair absures his vision and he momentarily had a strange urge to push the head away. Feliks's, who also turned to see where the other was, expression goes from confusion, to recognition, to over whelm disbelief with more confusion mixed in; which perks Toris's curiosity.

"Oh, my God…." Feliks whispers to Toris. Anxiously the other looks back and observe everything he can about the Italian. His hair is darker but Lithuania takes into consideration the distance between them; until he finally realizes the curl is on the right.

"Romano…" The name slowly escapes his lips draped in surprise. No one has seen the southern half of the nation in around a year. Not since pictures from an unknown source leaked into office revealing that the country of passion was really the country of deception. The shoots showed Antonio courting a young, attractive human girl, even though he was in a relationship with one of the more desirable personifications, despite his sour attitude. The rumors heated up from then. When it was officially called off the stories began to get more intense. One of the more bazaar but plausible story was the when Romano confronted the guilty he denied it at first, but when the young kept pushing, things got violent. The tale ends with Romano secretly rushed to the hospital. When he wasn't seen again everyone assumed the worst. Another slightly altered version leans more towards Romano being violent, holding Antonio's misters at gun point, but it ends the same way for the Italian. Almost everyone who believed in either of the two rumors cut tides with the Spanish; which damaged his economy. So, with all this bad air floating around, seeing the presumed dead boarding a plane was astounding. Unsure of what to do, the dumb fold nations just stared at what they hope to be the living Romano and each other.

Before either of them could ask what to do someone hurried through the door and face planted the floor. The other half of Italy lay sprawled in the ally. When he got up, quite disoriented, he was roughly pulled into a seat. He stares at the hand that held the sleeve of his blue uniform; Feliciano's eyes traveled up the arm and into pissed off expression of his twin. Gaping at his older brother North Italy freezes; sure he knew that none of the rumors were true, he even saw his other half's depressed state, though he doubts Romano remembers that drunken night. He just never thought that he would never come out of his house, yet here he was holding his arm and angry as ever. He seemed to look… normal, which was not how he was two weeks ago.

"Fratello?" Feli whispers.

Romano decides he doesn't want to waste time. He had enough trouble with his own life he didn't need to worry about Feliciano's. "We need to talk…" He stops when a strange body guard steps on board. It's not as if he wants to be secretive in this conversation, he could care less on who was listening; it's just that this man seems familiar to him. He looks about five-foot-nine with shaggy black hair and procaine skin; the black trench coat making him seem whiter. But when he looks into his eyes there's a sudden chill in the air; he knows he's seen the expression in those gray eyes but can't place where. Suddenly the room seems to darken then go black till it was just Feliciano, Romano and the man in existence. The creepy atmosphere disappears as the stranger takes his leave, but it couldn't have happened sooner for Romano. He turns back to his question but it seems as if Felicano was lost in his own thoughts, like he experienced the same thing as Romano. The guy continues down the alley.

Toris and Feliks watch the brothers in curiosity, wondering if Felicano knew about Romano or not. They couldn't hear what they were saying, but the way Romano was leaning they assumed it was something big. Maybe now with both of them here some of the rumors could be put to rest. A shadow slowly passes over Feliks but lingers over Toris who looks up at the man, preparing to properly greet him with a shy hello. As he looks into his face Toris watches as the color in the man's eyes seem to morph from a light gray into a solid gold hypnotizing him. His vision starts to fog as anger builds up in his system. Forgetting the creepy changing eyes, Toris struggles to understand this boiling rage flowing through his veins all made from a certain comment and aimed at the person across from him. _"…that Belarusian kurwa."_ Feliks turns to ask Toris a question only to be met with an enraged expression.

The twins sit in silence both deep in thought; Romano trying to figure out what just happened, while Feliciano was lost in thought of Germany cheating on him. He doesn't know where this image came from. Just a few moments ago he was in disbelief that his brother was on the plane and was about to glomp him, and then he distantly heard someone get on the plane behind him as horrible images of Ludwig fucking another swirled inside his mind. Tear collected at the brim of his eyes. Hands cradle his face and force Feliciano to look into his brother worried face, seconds away from crying. All of a sudden they hear a burst of shouting at the other end of the plane.

Toris had started questioning Feliks about his comment, getting louder and louder as the other tries to calm him down. That only enrages him more as he starts to shout in his native tongue which causes Feliks to shout right back, but in English. It takes three guards to separate the two and by then the plane is ready to take off. No one understands what happened so the leaders decide to sit and stay with the personifications. Romano and Felicano watch the whole thing take place, scared out of their minds till it's settled. Once the commotion stops, Romano peeks his head over the seat he was hiding behind and notices that the man who had seated himself in the back was missing. But he has no time to ponder on where he went since the flight attendant announces that they were leaving Rome. The several hour flight remained in complete silence after the incident.

~2~

They land in London at dusk. After being briefed on specific arrangements like hotel information and where and what time the meeting was everyone set off. Some more eager to get off than others, but not in anticipation for sightseeing. Toris and Feliks sprinted off in opposite directions to get away from one another their bosses and guards hastily trailing after them. The twins had to stay and linger a bit to figure out sleeping arrangements as some other countries still wondered in. Some of the closer countries were already in their hotel, while others who had to travel a further distance still trailed in, and even further ones like Russia and America and that one guy that looks a lot like Alfred weren't going to get here till morning.

"Let me call David and see what we can do." Giorgrio tried, his voice and body language screamed that he didn't want to figure this out and just crawl into bed. Pulling out his cell he dials the prime minister of England. Italy sits next to Romano on a bench, happily looking around the airport trying to get his mind off his own thoughts. He scans the crowd looking for people he knew. His eyes fell on a small oriental man making him jump up and down on his seat. Romano groggily glares at his brother wondering how the hell he has all that energy and what the fuck is so amusing.

"God damn it, Feli! Calm down before you blow an artery." Romano genially slaps the back of his brother's head.

The tap only fazes the excited man for a moment then he seems to get even more excited, if that was even possible, jumping high enough that the force would break the bench. Romano pushes him off the seat, but without missing a beat Felicano was on his feet running towards his friend.

"Kikuuuuuuuu…!" The happy Italian sings as he runs to the surprised little man.

Flinching back and holding his hand up defense, Japan prepares himself for the unwelcome physical contact he knew was going to happen. As expected the young Italian rushes into the smaller nation and topples him over.

"It-Italy-san… please, please get off." The horrified Japanese pleads. He's exhausted and just wants to get to his hotel room and sleep.

"Ve…" Italy replies sitting up smiling. "Ve, Kiku it's so great to see you here. I didn't think you wouldn't be landing till the morning. I thought that would give me time to make pasta for your arrival. Ve we should go out for pasta." Feliciano said the last part to his party waiting for him by the bench while he sat there on the ground with his friend talking. Kiku glances up at Italy's boss, giving a slight nod until he sees someone curled up on wooden bench. Gasping slightly at the sight of Romano, Kiku turns to Feliciano.

"Feil-san is that your brother, Romano-san?" He gestures to the brown bench.

"Si, isn't it wonderful? He's out and about, but we still need to find a…. Wait, Kiku didn't you say you had a room to yourself?" Feliciano asks. Kiku questions whether or not to answer knowing what Feli will ask next. Does he really want to spend his week with the rude twin? But that would give him a chance to talk to him about what been happening and get Feliciano off of him and off the floor. He looks back at Feliciano and takes a risk by telling him no he doesn't have a roommate, and then asks if Romano would need one for the meeting.

"Ve! Really Kiku, you would do that?" Italy gives the man no time to respond as he's pulled up off the ground the rushed over to Romano.

"Ve, Romano, Kiku just said that you could stay with him since he has a room to himself." The bouncing brunet explains dragging a terrified Japan behind him.

Once Kiku regains his barring, he confirms Feliciano's statement to his questioning boss. "Hai, Feliciano-san had exclaimed the situation and I have agreed to let Romano-san stay with me for the time being." With that he bows respectfully. Glancing at Romano, he's shocked to say the most to find the Southern Nation looking perfectly healthy. With what had happened he would at least expect him to be thinner and a little out of kept. Kiku questions whether Romano is still grieving or not.

The group falls into silence waiting for Romano to reply. At first everyone thinks Romano will decline the offer and start cussing till Giorgrio orders him to stay with Kiku. So his boss figures he might as well make the order before any of that could happen. But before he could say anything Romano get up off the bench saying, "Alright bastard. Let's get going, I'm exhausted and fucking hate the lighting in this place." With that he gathers his things and starts to head off.

"H-hai. Umm…Sayōnara (5) Felicano-san, Giorgrio-san." The small man bows again to both before taking his leave. He catches up with Romano and directs him to the hotel and their room, making a metal note to get an extra room key.

…

**Foot Note:**

**1- Lithuanian: very beautiful, strong- willed  
****2-** **Lithuanian slang: sexy  
3-** **Lithuanian: sorry  
****4- Polish: whore  
****5-** **Japanese: goodbye**


	4. Try

**Authors Note: Sorry this took so long. Life's been very hectic, plus I've been kind of working on other stories for different fandoms that I'll post later. **

_"Change is the only constant. Hanging on is the only sin"  
~ Denise McCluggage_

~1~

Steam hits cooled surfaces, transforming states quickly from a slightly invisible cloud to beads of water quickly rolling down the glass. Each droplet highlighted from the hard, yellow light giving the impression of sparkling specs upon the tan marble sink. The steady pound of water, a faint familiar humming, hides behind drawn white, rubbery curtains to aid in both protection and privacy. The calmness is abruptly interrupted by a quick, piercing squeal followed by the stop of the water, and the rings holding the curtain scratch across the bar as they're pushed aside. Ludwig stands there for a minutes open to the world. Blond hair plastered to his forehead allowing droplets to descend down in transparent lines outlining his form. Snatching a towel, he walks over to the mirror. The soft blue fabric wrapped around his waist, and he wipes his hand across the mirror removing the layer of mist blocking the reflection. The man looking back at him was the same as always, except out of order. Taking another towel he rubs his hair dry then runs it down his chest to dry the rest. Another eight minutes roll by and Ludwig is dry, dressed and ready for today's meeting. He straightens his red tie and pins the gray jacket; running his hand through his hair to slick it back in the military fashion he always has, Germany takes one last look at his exterior then nods in approval and leaves the restroom.

Out in the dark hotel room, he becomes a silhouette against the hard light behind him while his eyes readjust to the sudden dark. He carefully walks over to his suitcase and pulls out a manila folder with the ballet and other important papers safely tucked inside and places it into his bag along with a book, mints, extra pens, spare pounds (1) and… a beer or two. 'Incase it's going to be a long meeting.' He concludes to himself taking in all the other meetings they've ever had. Might as well come prepared. He turns to leave before noticing his roommate hasn't moved since he got up at six. The other bed was still occupied by a large figure buried under a dark brown and white blanket and sheets that slightly bunched around him when he adjusted in his sleep. Ludwig checks his watch that said it's half past six and the meeting doesn't start till eight. But given the meeting is being held twenty minutes away and during heavy traffic, the German believes an early start will promise that he will get there on time. As for his sleeping roommate, he can't make that same accusation. He about shakes the other lightly on the shoulder wondering how the hell this guy can sleep all this time, "…especially after what you've done to Romano." He whispers to himself. The German gazes down at the peacefully sleeping face of Antonio. It's like the Spanish is without a care in the world of what he's done and what will happen. Ludwig doesn't know how to react to the situation he's in, but spending the week with your boyfriend's brothers ex was not high on the list of fun. He ignores his own discomfort as he lightly shakes Antonio's shoulder, who quickly shrugs it off groaning. "Spain, you have to….. you have only an hour to get ready and get to the meeting." He doesn't know what caused him to change his demand into an option. May be deep down he wants to watch Antonio be late and may be embarrass himself. But Ludwig couldn't dwell on it, he needed to get going. Sighing he walks out of their room.

"Ahh! Francis! Like, what the Hell, are you doing!?" Feliks yells could be heard from all the way down the long hallway, and closed door, causing others to come out and see what the problem was. Vash pokes his head out from the room next door, green toothbrush still in mouth and buttoning his white shirt, with Roderick right behind him, no less ready. The couple stares in the direction all the commotion was, when others started to curiously venture out. Elizaveta opens her door carrying a frying pan in one hand and adjusting the flower in her hair with the other, little Lily clinging to her girlfriend's arm still in her long blue night gown and hair a mess. A few doors down Yao jumps out shirtless and hair down; not because of the yelling out in the hall, but there's apparently a ghost in his room and he babbles on how it just moved the sheets in the other bed. A faint voice calls out claiming to be Matthew which only make the Chinese man jump from one foot to the other shouting at the mysterious phantom in his room that he did nothing wrong to his elders, and almost begs for forgiveness if he did. Ivan walks behind the frantic man holding his pipe and tells him, "If you've done nothing wrong Podsolnechnik (2), then why do you ask for forgiveness? And since will that stop a ghost from ripping apart your sanity? Nyet (3), you will have to perform an exorcist by using a human sacrifice." Russia explains to his freaked out lover who quickly refuses the idea, and waves his hands in defense saying that's not necessary. But the tall, psycho merely smiles and ignores Yao's pleads, claiming he had brought a wigi board, candles and chickens blood along with him (why? no one knows) and suggest that Yao stay with him and Feliciano for the night so he could prepare.

Hearing enough Ludwig heads off to the elevator yet as he passes Ivan's room he can't help but wonder how Feliciano is doing with Ivan. He wonders if he's scared out of his wits. Even if they're fighting he couldn't just abandon him, not to the ways of Ivan. So, he knocks on the door and when no one answers he speaks through the door who he is and for Italy if he's still there. When that fails he decided to leave, thinking maybe Italy is in the shower or already gone. When Ludwig turns around he nearly jumps out of his skin. Ivan was standing right behind him smiling creepily with Yao still shaking a little from his experience. The golden blond musters up the quickest poker face, even though his heart was beating a marathon and looks up into those terrifying violet orbs.

"Hello comrade, are you in need of assistance?" The innocent question doesn't trick Ludwig, so he tells Ivan no and tries to get around him. "Oh, but you were trying to communicate with little Italy, da?" Ivan's smile widens as he tilts his head to the side. "Maybe I should go in a see if he's still here. He seemed so shaken when I came, you would've thought that a murderer was walking through the door. Such a cute sight." Ludwig is taken back by the comment. 'Italy…. if this keck sau (4) touched you, I'll kill him.' Before he could say anything, Ivan opened the door and you could hear running water indicating that Feliciano had jumped in the shower.

"It seems he's in the shower, I could go..." Ivan was interrupted again before he could finish his offer, which was starting to get on his nerves. He's never really takes it well with rude people, only a selective few could get away with it on normal occasions.

"Nien, nien. It's okay, I just wanted to say... never mind. Just let him know I stopped by... wait, no don't tell him that, I'll talk to him after the meeting." Ludwig stammered. He quickly bid his goodbye then made a hasty leave, slightly flustered by the whole ordeal, and leaving Russia and China confused by the door. Once he was halfway down the hall, Ivan turned to Yao with a childlike smile plastered on his face, seeming to have dismissed the awkward conversation. The elder of the two looked up at him questionably. Several ideas were running through his head, but only a one seemed plausible of an answer.

"Do you think they're having an argument, aru?" He asked.

His significant other just stood there; he raised an eyebrow in question and shrugged his shoulders, not too concerned about the whole ordeal. He figures he'll talk to the small Italian about it later, or just wait till the rumors start like they always do with these situations. Private life is seldom private, especially if certain ears, or yaoi club, were to hear. Germany may be in the clear if no one says anything. Ivan's lips curl in a nasty smirk at that thought. He ignores Yao concerned expression, who already guesses that his boyfriend was up to no good, and strolls inside.

Ludwig rounded the corner as fast as his feet would push him without being in a run. Nobody was out in the halls anymore, having satisfied their curiosity. Still, Ludwig wanted to get out of the building and far away from Ivan, or so he told himself. Once inside the elevator, the stock man lets out a breath of relief as the doors begin to close, till long, tan delicate fingers stop them in their track. Ludwig's catches his breath, instantly recognizing the slender fingers of an Italian hand.

~2~

Kiku sat down in the lobby with Alfred happily chirping away at his side. The cheerful American continued to talk about the new video game he was making and wonders if he could test it out, being that Japan has some of the best video games.

"Yeah, we could totally try it out tonight since you've got a room to yourself. What do you think dude?" Alfred exclaims.

Kiku shook his head. "No, I don't have a room to myself. Romano-san needed a place to stay." Although he stated this bluntly, the way Alfred stared at him Kiku might as well have told him Japan found the cure for cancer.

"Romano...?"

"Hai. He's attending the meeting along with Feliciano-san." Kiku continued. As if on cue, the elevator opens up and out strolls Ludwig followed by the Italian. The German could hardly believe it when he first saw him but there he was, dressed in a fine tan suit. Romano and he rode in silence all six floors down to the lobby. Alfred's jaw drops at the sight. He never like talking about the conspiracies about Romano, not because death creped him out or he felt bad, which he did, but the day Romano "died" was the one year anniversary of Arthur and his split. He couldn't think of one without remembering the other. But now was no time to think about those things, for Romano sulked towards them, pissed that yet again someone was staring at him like he was some sort a freaky alien.

"Yo, bastard, you got something to say or you just going to gawk like potato did? God, you people are stupid." He angrily said.

"Romano-san, if I may say, your sudden appearance has shocked us." Kiku stated.

"Yeah, well... I guess I wouldn't be here if didn't have to. Um... thanks for letting me stay with you." His sudden change in attitude throws the other two off. "Uhh.. Hai, you're welcome." The smaller replied. Feeling that the other two were becoming friends, Alfred figures he might as well jump in too. "So, hey, how are you doing, dude?" The fiery Italian turns to the American slightly irritated. "Perfectly fucking fine. What's it to you?" Ignoring the question, the blond continues to press on. "You caught up with all that's been going on? It's been quite hectic couple years." Romano glares at him at first for asking such a stupid question, till he thinks about it and realizes that no, he doesn't know what's been happening outside his apartment. Taking the flustered look as no, Alfred starts explaining all that's happened, even though most of his facts are kind of bias, till Kiku tells the party that they have to start going or they're going to be late.

~3~

The doors open and Arthur looks up from his book to see who had showed up. Ludwig stood there by the door of the meeting and gives England a nod before taking his seat. Figuring others will be coming soon; Arthur gets up from his seat and prepares to be a good host.

"Good morning, Germany." He gets a small morning from the man before others appear. Straightening his blue jacket, Arthur turns to greet the new arrivals. He doesn't know what shocked him more, the sight of Romano alive or the blond he was talking to. Kiku appears by his side asking if everything was okay. Arthur jumped out of his daze and greets Kiku. They all take their seats and wait for the rest to arrive, all kind of lost in their own little world. But Arthur couldn't help but glance every so often at Romano (just so he wouldn't look at Alfred) who just staring at the table. Curiously he walks over to Ludwig and strikes up a conversation hoping to get more information on what happened since Feliciano wasn't here yet. But the other just turned away after he mentioned Feliciano. Arthur turns to Kiku confused as to what just happened, who claims to not know anything. Arthur knows better but decides not to push since more countries are arriving.

Once everyone arrives and takes their seat Arthur gives the opening speech and leaves the floor open to anyone. Hercules starts off, and talks about the economical drop. All the while France throws sexual comments, seeming aimed more towards certain people which pissed Arthur off. He, being the victim of the harassment, had to turn away for a breather before he started a fight in the middle of the meeting. "Oui, petit lapin I'm just asking a simple question? How long can Big Ben last before it strikes twelve?" He ends the question with a suggestive glance. "If it needs "tuning" up, I'm always available to help…" The crackling sound of knuckles stops him in his tracks. Several people turn, looking around for where the sound originated. Vash takes note of Alfred's clenched fist, and puts one and two together. Francis clears his throat as if coming to the same conclusion as the Swiss on the other side of the room. Slightly fearing the American, Francis turns his attention to Antonio.

"Like, right now I wish the air was clean. I'm completely afraid that I'll get gonorrhea if I breathe. " Feliks whispers to Toris. But it doesn't go unnoticed from the Frenchman.

"Espagne," He coos. "you look decadent today. Mon, is that a new suit?" The man in question smiles cheerfully with a quick 'Sí'. "Well, I must say it does you wonders. Tho…" the blond glances around, "it would also do wonders," Blue eyes pierce green in a suggestive gaze, "on the floor of my hotel room." Those close enough to hear the French man and not paying attention to Mathias speech, who also stopped after hearing what was said, shifted uncomfortably away. Even Antonio's smile fathered a little as he slightly fidgeted under the intense stare.

"Like, control your ponies. You forget you're not rooming alone." Snapped the flustered polish but unable to look Francis in the eye. "Oh, now Pologne (5) I didn't forget about you. I was hoping you would join us in a sensual three..."

"Enough!" Shouted Ludwig and slamming his hands on the table. As the stock German shouted at those who weren't paying attention, especially Francis and Feliks, Arthur surveys the crowd. The Baltics next to Russia and his sister with the rest of Asia, Europe to the left just like the layout of the map. And just like the map the American country is all the way on the other side. England forgot what he was doing when his eyes landed on the floppy blond hair, tousled in a stylish nonchalant manner. Before the other knew he was staring, Arthur threw his gaze in another direction and found Antonio shyly glancing up then quickly glancing back at his lap. Curious, the former pirate sot out the treasure Spain had his eye on. Across the table, he notices the Italian twins, Italy doodling away in his note book and Romano lazily watching the speaker resting his chin on the palm of his hand. But every so often he would shift uncomfortably, most likely feeling the timid eyes of the ex. He heed them no attention but Arthur connected the dots quickly. Antonio still has feelings for the small man. This sparks up an idea on how to get underneath his enemy's skin, and Arthur almost chuckles at himself for thinking it.

At the first break everyone goes off on their own direction. But two stay behind. Antonio barriers his head beneath his arms, trying to escape, while a blond he once considered his friend stood by watch. "¿Qué diablos estás haciendo, maldito idiota?"(6) He strikes at the blond, words laced with as much venom as he could put. The older looked down at his friend, confident in what he observed from his "experiment". "Courage Espagne, for did you not notice the way little Sud de l'Italie glared at moi? He was jaloux of the attention I was giving you. This is a good thing, no?(7)" Francis states to the depressed and gloomy.

"No, how am I supposed to be happy when the only thing I want in this world hates my very existence?" Looking up Antonio glared at Francis with glistening eyes. "Tell, me Francia (8), what pleasure was I to gain if he doesn't even look at me?"

The French signed. "Mio ami, it's been a while since you left the woman. A year, no? It's obvious Romano still harbors feelings for you. Why do you not take the chance with amour?"

Antonio shrugged then replied, "It won't work." He falls back into a depressive cloud, sinking down his chair.

"Have you tried?" Francis asked, knowing full well that he didn't. Antonio was completely lost in these situations, giving up before even trying, so Francis devises a way around his friend's self-pity. "Well then, whoever named you the country of passion was surely an idiot. Anyone can see that you're just failure, giving up before you even try." At that Antonio's head shot up, really to defend his title. After proclaiming himself the most passionate country, he asks the other if anyone had ever come close to his standards. With everything in motion Francis starts to circle Antonio, stroking his ego.

"No, no, no one comes to mind. Your passion can't be matched, nor suppressed by our peers." Francis whispers into Antonio's ear, who quickly agrees. "So, why not fight for him? With moi at your side you'll have Romano back in your arms. For how could he resist the influences of both Pays de l'amour et de la passion (9)?" With Antonio on board, Francis devises a plan to make Romano run back into the Spanish arms.

~4~

Arthur finds Romano with Kiku and Alfred right outside the door. Upon seeing him make his way to the group, Alfred excuses himself and leaves still not able to face him.

"Hello, Kiku, Romano. Nice seeing you two." He starts. Kiku relies with a 'hai' while Romano just shrugs his shoulder. "I just wanted to ask you, Kiku, if you would accompaniment me for dinner? As a thank you for your company two weeks ago, and Romano why don't you come to? I hear you two are sharing a room?" He waits for the two to decide. They considered their options, not really wanting to eat English food.

"H-hai, I would enjoy spending the evening with you." Kiku finally replies after consideration. They turn to Romano who still thinking and weighing his options. He could just decline and cook himself something, but knowing after the meeting he'll be to beat to do that and Kiku has the only key. For some reason Romano doesn't think he'll give it to him. Signing he replies, "Yeah, sure. What the worst that could happen?" He'll soon find out that it always could get worse.

~5~

Out by the coffee machine Feliciano throw his arms around Ludwig who had searched him out. "Ve, Doitsu I'm sorry for all that I said too. I don't think you're a two timing, pasta murder." Feliciano happily accepts Germany's apologized for two nights ago, though he still not sure what he's sorry for. "Ja." Ludwig whispers. The two hold each other for a moment and quickly kiss before grabbing a cup of coffee.

**Footnote:**

**1-Englands currency**

**2- Russian: sunflower**

**3- Russian: no**

**4- German slang: (masculine) stupid sow, pig, swine**

**5- French: Poland**

**6- Spanish: What the hell were you doing, fucking asshole?**

**7-French: Cheer up, Spain….. South Italy… jealous **

**8- Spanish: France**

**9- French: Country of love and passion**


End file.
